Used
by majesticnash
Summary: Natasha always had a purpose in somebody else's life and for as long as she could remember she had always been used in some way. A story detailing the key moments in Natasha Romanoff's life. Disclaimer: blah blah no characters are mine, all characters belong to Marvel
1. Chapter 1

She was born on a wintery night in 1928 as an effort to save her parents failing marriage. a marriage that had suffered through the poverty stricken Stalin era as both her parents struggled to make ends meet working in the local factory. Her mother spent her lunch break trying to breastfeed her whilst her father covered for his wife's absence. It was hard but they worked hard to make it work for the first few months of '_nemnogo Natal'ya' _life. But as an infant, Natasha fought against her mother's comfort, to her this woman was a stranger, she had spent most of her time being cared for by the woman across the hall in their apartment complex. Feeling like a failure, her mother descended into a depression and as a result stopped working, stopped talking and stopped responding to her friends and family. It was left to her father to desperately patch the cracks in their lives, trying to cover for his wife's absences from work all the while knowing that the day would come when she would be taken from him. It was three days later when his wife was arrested for avoiding work and another day later when news came of her suicide. And so he was left to survive for his daughter's sake, his precious tuft of deep red curls, so much like her mother.

He got a raise and a few more pennies added to his salary. It wasn't enough. He could no longer afford to pay Mrs Burkov for her childcare services and she was no longer in the position of giving him free child care. He could do nothing else but ask her to check on Natalia every few hours whilst she was left sitting alone in her fourth hand cot with the dingy used mattress as comfort and the peeling yellow walls as company. They made it work for two years, two long years. He made sure she had clothes on her back and a roof over her head. The clothes were too small, the rent was always late and what little he had left went towards his ever growing need for cheap vodka.

He was a good and loving father.

Their small apartment community saw this and tried to help out as much as possible but everybody was going through similar hard times. Stalin's soldiers were cruel like surly mongrels desperate to attack at any poor soul that tripped up in front of them. The amount of arrests went up as did the brutality of the beatings. There was no such thing as free speech, no concept of light hearted criticism of government. Everybody was on edge, suspicious of their spying neighbours, who could be trusted in a world where informing was the currency which bought you safety?

Natalia was four years old when her father's alcoholic tendencies became a problem. He had no filter anymore, no common sense, no sense of mortality. He openly mocked his superiors and the regime. His neighbours and co-workers waited for the day he too would be taken, they pitied the fate of his pretty daughter, but not one person intervened. Nobody wanted to be gifted with the same fate.

On February 16th the smell of smoke drifted through the halls. Natalia stood in the cot and watched her father's collapsed body on the filth covered carpet, his ever present bottle still clutched in his unconscious hands. She watched the flames dance in the door frame. She didn't cry, didn't whimper. Her bony fingers clutched at the silver locket hanging from her neck. Her neighbours watched as the flames engulfed the Romanov apartment and accepted the view of the flames moving towards their homes and possessions. If they saw the tall man with his arms wrapped around a red headed child in a tatty green night gown, they said nothing.

Natalia's arms hung limply around this stranger's thick neck, her chin resting on his shoulder she watched as her home began to collapse into itself, she turned away, focusing her attention on the strange man's face, her index finger stroked the scar on the front of his face, he offered her half a smile, she blinked at him before turning back to her lost home.

It was the first and only time that Natalia had ever failed in her purpose.


	2. Chapter 2

She stood there in her favourite green nightgown, against the cold cement wall. Her feet felt like they were burning as she shivered, blue toes in the snow. But she daren't cry. Not with the two strange men that were seemingly getting into a heated argument over her, if their side glances at her scrawny three feet figure was anything to go by. There was also the issue of the boy holding a large gun to her head, one that seemed to equal her height and more than half of his.

The argument between her rescuer and the mean looking man seemed to be reaching it boiling point as was the building pressure in her head. Pretty little sparkles floated in front of her eyes like little dancers, the boy inched backwards and whimpered, she squinted at him before the world slipped onto its side. Through the darkness she could hear the shuffling of heavy boots through the snow and a gruff exchange of words before she felt the dull lash of a glob of warm liquid hitting her cheek.

'_Ona slaba, bespolezno.'_ 'She is weak, useless'.

'_Ona budet uchit'sya ne byt'.' _'She will learn not to be'.

Yes, she would no longer be weak, she would be a brave girl. Just like Papa wanted.

Her body was cold and numb. Something that she would have to get used to.

A foot nudged her limp body as she felt her head loll to the side. And for the second time tonight she felt the slight rush of wind that came with her light body being hoisted into somebody's arms. Three sets of footsteps began to trudge through the thick snow. She was not stupid, she was destined for a new life, a better one. But it would be one in which she could not make mistakes. She would have to live up to her purpose now. They stopped for a second and she wondered if they had already reached their destination.

A gunshot rang out into the silence of snow followed by a muffled thump as something hit the soft ground.

Two sets of footsteps continued on as she felt the icy wind flutter through her hair. Opening one eye, she glanced back at and noted the three bloody footprints that varied in their red hue.

No, they would not be so forgiving of weakness where she was headed.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N I've given up on translating all of the Russian sentences, I don't speak the language and I'm pretty sure most of it was wrong. Therefore, all Russian is in _italics._ So yeah.

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Twelve pairs of eyes stared intently at her as she is shoved into the room. Hair still dripping wet from being hosed down outside, she nervously tugged the sleeve down of her new thick white long sleeved t-shirt that matched her form fitting trousers. The door slammed shut and she tried her best to hide her flinch. Trying her hardest to ignore the older girls' stares, she surveyed her surroundings. A long narrow room with grungy grey-white walls coupled with dusty weathered looking wooden floors. There were no windows, the only light source came from two bare light bulbs that hung benignly from a cobweb choked ceiling. On the floor lay a series of mattresses. No beds. Just fourteen filthy mattresses that looked as though a few had springs poking out of them.

She moved towards an empty mattress at the bottom of the hall. she sat down timidly keeping her eyes trained to her shoes, the feeling of those cold stares aimed at her face, her hands shakily gravitated towards her new heavy too-big steel toed boots in an attempt to untie them before a hand firmly gripped her smaller wrists. she looked up wide eyed and surprised at the blond teen who shook her head silently before gesturing to the other girls that kept their boots on whilst sitting on their individual mattresses, from the corner of her eye she noted the scuttling of a large roach that squeezed itself under the door frame. The teen let go of her wrists, swung her legs onto her own mattress and lay down on her back, eyes closed. Natalia followed suit. The lights remained on. She listened to the rhythmic breathing of twelve other girls as she pinched her arm, willing herself to not cry.

Her eyes flew open as her head was roughly yanked back. Blinking the sleep out of her eyes she desperately tried to make sense of what was happening.

Yelling.

She was being scolded for something.

She couldn't focus. She was disoriented. Her eyes darted around, seeking an explanation from one of the other girls. Her confused panic was met with unnerving blank faces

Her scalp was burned as she no longer felt the ground under her body. Desperately blinking back her rapidly forming tears she gathered that she was being held off the ground by a handful of her hair. She scrambled to get down, feet flailing, hands clawing at her attacker's hands, she dug her nails in deep as she arched her body and swung her feet backwards. Promptly dumped onto the floor and breathing heavily she turned to face the person who had grabbed her. Natalia felt her stomach sink as she stared at the guard currently grasping his crotch before she heard the crack of skin hitting skin and a new sensation of pain radiating off of her cheek. Her eyes darted upwards to see a fist posed to strike her, she curled into herself, preparing to take another hit. The other guard coughed and looked at his comrade.

'_Wait! Wait!' _he panted, _'Not her face. She is Ivan's pet'._

His fist met the back of her head. Twice.

She fought to maintain consciousness. The warmth of her own urine running down her leg was an odd reassurance that she was still present before she was yanked back onto her feet and thrust against the wall.

'_STAND UP!',_he roared into her face.

She fought to keep the weight of her body up and used the grubby wall as her backbone. The guard swung around, glancing at each of the other girls that sat unmoving on their individual beds, their cold eyes absorbing the scene in front of them. He pulled his comrade up and marched towards the open door.

'_Training begins in ten minutes!'_,he barked before exiting the room, dragging his colleague with him.

The girls began to move out of their beds, beginning their daily routines, all ignoring Natalia's now crumpled form. All except one.

'_Get up, little one'._

Natalia lifted her head to see the owner of the soothing raspy voice. It belonged to the same blond teen that helped her the night before. With the teen's help, she stood shakily.

'_Why did they do this? What did I do wrong?'_, Natalia questioned, her voice trembling as she was led towards an old silver bucket that sat under a rusty tap in the wall. Narrowing her eyes slightly at it, she had failed to notice it last night.

The teen chuckled wryly, _'You rolled onto the floor during the night. And they found you like that this morning'._

Natalia's eyebrows furrowed as she struggled to understand the reasoning behind such a thing. How could something so silly warrant that harsh of punishment?

'_Soldiers sleep in straight lines'_, the blond recited in answer to Natalia's silent question.

Natalia said nothing in reply, allowing herself to be stripped down and washed clean with the icy cold water in the corner of the room. She glanced at the stained white trousers in a heap next to her. She was only given one pair. She sighed as she noted that they too would have to be washed and most likely worn wet.

The rest of the girls had all cleared out of the room, leaving the two girls together, separate in their thoughts with only the sounds of spraying water and the occasional sharp intake of breath from Natalia as the feeling of the glacier like water hitting her skin took her by surprise. She had no idea what she was doing here, who these people were, why that man took her here and who this Ivan person was. She thought she would be going to an orphanage like Piter Volkov did when his parents died but after everything that's happened… Maybe she was at an all girls school. The guard said training so… Yes, perhaps it was a school. But… There were so many unanswered questions and she had a feeling that the people here were not in the habit of answering them.

'_My name is Yelena', _the teen said, startling Natalia out of her daydream and breaking the silence.

_'Natalia_' she replied meekly, suddenly ashamed of her lack of basic manners.

They stood awkwardly for a moment, stopping in their actions to take in the absurdity of their positions. Yelena's hands gripping the wet material of Natalia's trousers in an attempt to force them up her little legs whilst Natalia clutched at Yelena's shoulders trying to brace herself against the violent movements entailed by getting re-dressed. They shared a brief smile.

_'Come now',_ Yelena said gently, _'you should eat before you start your training. They will not care about your size or age here. You have to learn to take care of yourself. Look out for yourself. Selfishness is the key to surviving here, little one.'_

'_But where is here? And you-'_

'_Jump up'_

Natalia complied, wriggling a little to further move the trousers up and over her thighs, before continuing her question.

'_Why are __you__ helping me?' _she huffed, face scrunched up in a pout, red curls falling in her face. She almost stomped her foot.

Yelena paused for a moment, her eyes taking in the sight of Natalia's three foot frame, shivering, arms crossed, chin held up stubbornly. No wonder Uncle Ivan had an interest in her. This little girl was a fighter. It would benefit her under the watchful eye of Uncle and the Red Room to keep Natalia under her wing.

'_Because I would have wanted somebody to help me when I first came here'_, she finally answered ruffling Natalia's curls. _'Come, we only have one meal a day. It's gruel. You won't like it but you'll need it._

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A/N Please review if you liked or hated it. Feedback is needed and welcome. There will probably be another two chapters on Natasha's experience at the Red Room. I solemnly swear that they will be 1000 words at least.

-N


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